a potluck party (lyn)

Twice a year or so, Penny has a potluck dinner party.  She has a big, beautiful terrace, and when the stars are out, and the weather is warm, it makes for a perfect party venue.

Tonight is one of those nights.

I bring home-baked cookies.  Well, sort of home-baked.  I buy the frozen chocolate chip cookie dough from Agata, and from that, make cookies.  I feel this is more than I usually do, which is to pick up something.

I eat before going to Penny’s, the idea being that I won’t be hungry.  Half a Subway vegetable sandwich with pringle lights.  Maybe I’ll have some dessert there.

Given that Memorial Day has passed, I decide to wear white.

Robyn picks me up, and is carrying her contributions.  A big terrine of gazpacho soup, with a side of cut up cucumbers and avocado to add later.  Hers is fully homemade.  She also brings a big bowl of quinoa that she’s made with some green stuff added.  My contribution is paltry by comparison.

We arrive on the early side, and already all the seating on the terrace is taken.  I am never totally at ease at these type of stand around and talk events, so I grab some food to have something to do.  Just a taste of a delicious chicken and fig dish.  Then some chips and guacamole.  A couple of shrimp with cocktail sauce.  And someone has made ziti.  Have to have a little of that.  One piece of sushi.  Some fruit.  Some non-alcoholic punch.  I should have had more than a half sandwich before coming.

Finally some seats open up and I find a few friends.  I have a small brownie and some purple and white M and M’s.  My friend takes a couple of cookies, not knowing that I brought them.  She bites into one.  “These are awful.  They taste like alcohol.  Have you tried done,” she asks.  “Only when I was baking them,” I reply.